


Comfort, Companionship, Confidence

by utzzer



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: (Except Talvas is a Dunmer so he's in his sixties), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, Making Friends when you're an introvert, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sibling Relationship, Slice of Life-ish but will turn into Action/Adventure at some point, Slow Burn, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Trying to keep your shit together when you're in your twenties, getting drunk with your coworkers and talking shit about your boss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26694655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/utzzer/pseuds/utzzer
Summary: Overwhelmed by working two jobs for Master Neloth, Talvas sets out to find a new steward for Tel Mithryn. He ends up getting a little more than he bargained for.
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn & Original Male Character(s), Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn & Talvas Fathryon, Talvas Fathryon/Original Male Character
Comments: 14
Kudos: 36





	1. Shopping List

**Author's Note:**

> This went from me thinking “I’m going to write Talvas a boyfriend because he deserves one”, to an excuse to write about my OCs, to somehow becoming a whole thing - and now I'm sitting here, with heaps of backstory and a vague plan where this is going, slightly terrified of what I should do with it. At this point, I put so much work into this that I might as well release it out into the world.
> 
> As for canon, I pick and choose the things I like, mess around with the order in which they happen and bend them in a way that fits my story. There will be spoilers for the Dragonborn main questline and several other Solstheim quests.
> 
> English is not my first language, and while I know my way around academic writing, I only have a vague idea of how people actually talk - I'm trying my best here.
> 
> Anyway, you're not here for my rambling, so please enjoy this beautiful mess of a story.

Ash yams. Cabbages. Canis root.

After he had already braved the judgmental stare of Raven Rock’s blacksmith when he didn’t know what kind of nails he needed, and endured the chatty trader talking his ear off about the East Empire company coming back to Raven Rock, the last items on his list would take Talvas to the farm at the west border of town. He would fetch the supplies, hurry back to Tel Mithryn before it got dark and then there would be a whole other mountain of work waiting for him. Things had just been piling up ever since Varona died and Master Neloth made Talvas do all her work on top of his usual duties.

The death of their steward had come as a shock to all of them, especially to Talvas who had the misfortune to find Varona’s body surrounded by an unreasonable number of ash spawn. Of course, Master Neloth was incredibly annoyed by the whole deal and took it all out on Talvas. As if it was his fault that Varona died! Now the other servants were mourning the death of their friend and weren’t especially happy with how Talvas handled her old tasks. What did they expect when he was also supposed to keep up with all of the research Master Neloth gave him?

Under different circumstances, Talvas might have even enjoyed doing the supply runs to Raven Rock – but like this it was a rush to the town, gathering supplies under the lingering glares of the Redoran guards and the townsfolk, followed by a struggle to make it back to Tel Mithryn with the added weight of a full pack in fading daylight. It would be easier if Master Neloth finally agreed to teach Talvas the levitation spell – but judging by his master’s bad mood and the amount of work Talvas was already behind on, that was not something that would happen soon.

He was pondering how he would fit the supplies from the farm into his already heavy pack, while also keeping an eye out for the farmer or his wife, but they were nowhere to be seen. There was a lone guard permanently posted at the farm to protect Raven Rock’s most important source of food, and a stranger who was sitting next to the alchemy table, thumbing through a battered journal. He appeared to be a young human, his features rounded and soft – although small but very distinctive pointed ears poked out through his inky black curls. Talvas knew that Bretons sometimes had slight points to their ears – although they usually tended to be quite pale, which the stranger was not. A Breton who had spent some time suntanning perhaps?

When the stranger caught sight of Talvas approaching the farm, he shoved the journal into a bag laying at his side, stood up, dusted some ash from his dark robes and greeted Talvas with a flash of white teeth.

“Hello and good day to you… Sera.” He said with the obvious hesitation of an outlander trying his hands at Dunmeri honorifics. “Can I interest you in some alchemical ingredients? Or are you looking for some of the best – and admittedly only ash yams in Raven Rock?” He waved his hands around, presenting the wares stored in some chests behind him.

“You’re… new.” Was Talvas’s lame reply. He was not prepared to be met with such enthusiasm.

“Well spotted.” The stranger chuckled. “The name’s Vilco Gavennius. Milore lets me use her alchemy equipment if I help out a bit.”

Vilco Gavennius – an Imperial. Though perhaps with recent elven ancestry judging by the ears. Something that was probably not that uncommon in places like Cyrodiil, but certainly a novelty on Solstheim.

“I’m Talvas –“

He was interrupted by a hiss from the alchemy table. A green liquid was bubbling away in a small alembic, climbing up its way through a long spiral tube and then dripped colorlessly into a small round flask that was carefully balanced on top of two books, a folded piece of cloth and four sticks.

“You’re an alchemist?” Talvas asked, just to make sure whatever was bubbling away on the alchemy table wasn’t about to explode in both their faces.

“Uhm. Sure. Let’s go with that.” Vilco said, which wasn’t particularly reassuring. “In fact, I could also offer you some of my own personal stock of Alchemy ingredients!” He picked up a battered apothecary’s satchel from the ground and started pulling out bunch after bunch of dried flowers and many small jars filled with various dried berries and herbs. He placed them on the alchemy table next to the wobbly looking contraption and presented them with a flourish.

“Help a man pay for a room for the night and get some quality ingredients fresh from Skyrim in return!” Vilco grinned and winked.

“Uhm,” Talvas could already feel a heat creep up his neck and up to the tips of his ears from all the attention. He broke the eye contact and chose to look at the ground instead. “I’m just here for some ash yams.”

“I can also help you with that.” Vilco said and walked over to a large urn. “How many do you need?”

How many ash yams _did_ Talvas need? He had no idea how much food Varona used to get for their pantry, and their cook, Ulves, didn’t put a number on the list. Apparently, everyone just assumed that he would know how much they would need until the next supply run. Nevermind that this was just the second time he went to Raven Rock to get supplies and that he had never paid much attention to the food consumption of Tel Mithryn’s inhabitants.

“Twenty… five?” He guessed, after a silence that already felt too long.

“Alright.” Vilco said, before he started pulling out one ash yam after another and placing them on the lid of the urn.

“So,” he started in between ash yams, “I haven’t seen you in Raven Rock since I arrived here.”

“Oh, I live at Tel Mithryn. I came here to get some supplies.”

“Ah,” Vilco paused and fixed Talvas with an interested glance, “so you’re a Telvanni wizard?”

“I’m just an apprentice.” Talvas tugged on a loose string on his sleeve and looked over at the growing pile of ash yams. Maybe twenty-five ash yams were too much?

“Eh, same difference. If you can call _me_ an alchemist, you can definitely call yourself a wizard while you’re an apprentice.”

Something on the alchemy table next to Talvas popped and the green liquid started to bubble violently. Vilco looked over at the contraption, shrugged and went back to piling up ash yams. Talvas took a step back, just as a precaution.

“What are you making?” Talvas gestured to the alchemy table as Vilco came back, carrying a rather sizable pile of ash yams.

“I have absolutely no idea.” Vilco crouched down to examine his experiment before he decided to extinguish the small flame that had been heating up the alembic. The green liquid immediately stopped bubbling and Talvas felt slightly safer from a potential explosion.

“The flora and fauna here on Solstheim are just so different from what I’ve been working with back in Skyrim. I was hoping Milore would teach me if I helped her out a bit, but as always coins are more appreciated than a helping hand.” He turned to Talvas with a sly smile. “So if you’re in need of some top notch alchemy ingredients fresh from Skyrim –“ he once again waved his hands over the various dried flowers and jars he had pulled from his satchel earlier, “it would really help me out a lot.”

“I’m not much of an alchemist.” Although the offer was tempting; Talvas was curious to see what ingredients were used in other parts of Tamriel. He just didn’t have the time to experiment with whatever he bought or the coins to buy them.

“Well, it was worth another shot.” Vilco gave Talvas another smile and a wink, before he turned to the pile of ash yams in front of them. “Sooo… can you carry those back or do you need a bag or something?”

“I actually still need some cabbages.” Talvas was wondering how he would add those to his pack on top of the ash yams. Maybe he could try to use Telekinesis to transport them?

“Oh? And how many cabbages do you need?” Vilco asked through a chuckle.

“Uhm,” back to guessing it was. “Ten?”

\--

He was so _stupid_. Of all the things that he could forget, of course it was the damned canis root. When he arrived at Tel Mithryn twelve years ago, Talvas never would have thought that one day he’d be running across Solstheim, just so his cranky old Master could have a cup of tea. And yet here he was, rushing past some ash spawn just outside Raven Rock and leaving them for the guards to deal with.

The trader didn’t have any canis root, which meant that Talvas would lose more time making it across town in the hopes that maybe the alchemist would have some in stock. And he would have to spend more of his coin, since the ingredients sold by alchemists were generally higher quality and more expensive.

This time, it wasn’t Vilco at the alchemy table, which had Talvas feeling more disappointed than he would care to admit. Instead it was the local alchemist, bent over her mortar and pestle in concentration. She only spared Talvas a cautious glance when he approached – which was fair, he supposed. People in Raven Rock knew Talvas was Master Neloth’s apprentice, and they didn’t like the Telvanni wizard much. Master Neloth read the citizens’ wariness of him as them being in awe – but Talvas knew it was cautious distrust.

He stopped a few steps away from the alchemy table, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“Hello,” he started, and immediately felt a twist in his stomach when the alchemist stopped working and payed full attention to Talvas instead. He swallowed and tried to calm himself down – she was a merchant and he was a customer, and even if she didn’t like him this was a completely normal and necessary interaction.

A slight scowl crept onto the alchemist’s face, a sign that Talvas had already taken too much time to say what he wanted.

“I’m uh, - I need –“, he paused again, to think about what he was going to say. Another deep breath, ignoring the alchemist’s expression that had gone from annoyance to something more like pity.

“Do you have any canis root?” Talvas eventually managed.

“Of course I do.” She said, her expression slipping to a professional smile.

“Then I’ll take as much as you can spare. Thank you.” He might have overestimated the amount of ash yams and cabbages the last time he came to Raven Rock; his shoulders still hurt from hauling back his overstuffed backpack. But Canis root wouldn’t be too heavy, and he would rather have a too much if it than to run out again.

He watched the alchemist walk over to a chest and taking a jar of canis root out of it. It was not as big as Talvas had hoped – with how much tea Master Neloth was drinking Talvas would probably have to make the trip back in less than two weeks. Nevertheless, he thanked her and paid – too much, he knew and the alchemist knew, too, judging by the glint in her eyes when she named her price. But haggling wasn’t really Talvas’s strong suit. Neither was getting supplies for their settlement apparently. Or fixing the tower’s squeaky door. Or steward’s duties in general.

“Could you maybe tell me where I can find Vilco?” Talvas asked just before he was about to leave, struck by an idea.

“Got an eye on the handsome outlander, do you?” The alchemist teased.

Talvas sputtered and felt his face flush. Yes, he had noticed that Vilco was perhaps better than average looking – but this wasn’t like that! He didn’t even know how to reply to the accusation, and thankfully the alchemist didn’t expect him to. She giggled at Talvas’s obvious embarrassment before telling him that Vilco could usually be found at the Retching Netch, the blacksmith or the Redoran councilor’s house. Talvas thanked her again and tried to get his furious blush under control as he made his way back to the town center.

After Varona had died, Talvas had soon determined that finding a new steward at Raven Rock would be near impossible. Sure, the town was run down and a far cry from what it must have been in its glory days, but most of its residents would rather live under the protection of the Redoran guards than at the beck and call of a slightly unhinged wizard.

But Vilco had just arrived and had hopefully not heard too much of the townspeople talk about what they thought was going on at the Telvanni tower. And maybe he would be willing to at try his hand at being Tel Mithryn’s steward, even if it was just for a little while. It was at least worth asking.

Talvas was relieved to find Vilco leaning on the wall of the blacksmith’s workshop, making idle conversation with the Breton while he worked. There had to be loneliness in being the only two humans in a Dunmer settlement, and the two men clearly found some kinship in that. Talvas already felt bad that he was about to interrupt their conversation, when the blacksmith spotted him.

“Here for some more nails, boy?” The Breton asked, apparently still remembering the last time Talvas showed up at his shop, completely clueless.

“No.” Talvas felt the tips of his ears grow hot. The nerve this man had to call him a boy! While he was young by Dunmer standards, he was pretty sure that he was this man’s senior by at least two decades. But either way, he was not here to get worked up over people's impression of him.

“I was actually looking for you.” He said with a pointed look at Vilco.

“Oh,” the Imperial turned to face Talvas, an easy smile on his face, “what would you want to talk to me for?”

“Well,” Talvas started, noticing the blacksmith watch their exchange with interest. “I was wondering if you would consider becoming Tel Mithryn’s steward.”

The blacksmith let out a barking laugh. “Vilco, you do not want to work for Neloth!”

Talvas felt a pang of irritation. Couldn't the blacksmith just shut up? He was ruining this whole plan that he had – maybe he should have talked to Vilco somewhere else.

“Why wouldn’t I want to work for Neloth?” Vilco asked, addressing both Talvas and the blacksmith.

“While he can be… difficult,” Talvas started, trying to salvage the situation, “he does pay his servants well.” At least that’s what he had heard from Elynea, Ulves and Varona when she was still alive. Not that Talvas was getting paid with coins. He was getting paid with an education, apparently.

“Also, Tel Mithryn is one of the safest places in all of Solstheim.” He added.

“Really? Then what happened to your last steward?” The blacksmith asked, and Talvas wanted to cast a silence spell on him.

“She… died.” Talvas said. There was no point in lying. “But that was on the road to Raven Rock – I could accompany you on your supply runs if you’re worried about that.”

He could handle making the frequent trips to Raven Rock if that meant that Master Neloth would stop bothering him with the steward’s duties. If anything, going to Raven Rock was the only part of the steward’s work that Talvas enjoyed.

“You’re giving me quite the bad sales pitch here.” Vilco said.

Talvas’s shoulders dropped. He had really thought that he had found a good candidate for a new steward.

“So you’re not interested?”

“I did not say that.”

Talvas head snapped back up to meet Vilco’s amused gaze.

Next to them, the blacksmith sputtered. “Seriously?”

Vilco shrugged. “Not a lot of work in Raven Rock. And I don’t particularly want to slink back to Skyrim.”

“So you’ll come and give it a try?” Talvas still couldn’t quite believe the turn this conversation had taken.

“I’m already all packed.” Vilco said with a nod to a stuffed backpack that was leaning on the wall right next to him. “If you want, we can leave right now.”

“Thank you!”

This was fantastic. Finally, someone was giving him a chance, and on top of that someone who seemed nice. If Master Neloth didn’t manage to run him off within five minutes of meeting him, Vilco would be quite the addition to the residents of Tel Mithryn, Talvas was sure of it.

“You, my friend, are insane.” The blacksmith was shaking his head as he watched Vilco shoulder his backpack.

Vilco returned a grin that could only be described as smug. “I like to think that I'm simply _adventurous_.”


	2. Cup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vilco meets Master Neloth and the other residents of Tel Mythrin.

“Talvas! Where on Nirn have you been hiding? Did you fill those soul gems like I asked you to? And where is my tea?” Master Neloth emerged from the back room, as soon as Talvas and Vilco landed on the tower’s platform with a telltale thump. He looked at them both, his eyes narrowing as soon as they fell on Vilco.

“I don’t recall inviting you into my tower.”

“I brought him here from Raven Rock.” Talvas stepped in. “To become your new steward.”

“Him?” Master Neloth walked around Vilco, examining him like he was his next test subject. “He doesn’t look like much.”

“I do have a name, you know. It’s Vilco Gavennius.” Vilco stared right back at Master Neloth, who looked unimpressed. Then he lowered his head in a polite bow. “At your service, Serjo.”

The situation painfully reminded Talvas of when he had arrived to become Master Neloth’s new apprentice. But unlike Vilco, Talvas stumbled over his words and botched a spell that nearly set the tower on fire when he was asked to demonstrate his abilities. And he never would have dared to speak so boldly to the Telvanni Master.

Master Neloth crossed his arms, standing up to full height in front of Vilco. He was a good few inches taller than the Imperial, the top of Vilco’s head was barely on level with Master Neloth’s eyes. And yet, he looked up at the Master wizard, locking him in a staring contest.

“If you think I’ll let some random Imperial stick his grubby little hands in my business just because he has memorized a few Dunmeri honorifics and there might be a few drops of mer blood in him,” Master Neloth threw a pointed look at Vilco’s ears, “Then you are even more foolish than I took you for.”

“I might surprise you, if you give me a chance.” Vilco said, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Master Neloth narrowed his eyes even more.

“If I am as stupid as you say, surely all of your research and your secrets are safe from my ‘grubby little hands’ _._ And I’m sure you’d rather have Talvas back to doing research instead of having him run around doing steward’s work. You can still fire me if you find yourself dissatisfied,” he cocked his head, “Serjo _._ ”

“Well aren’t you confident.” Master Neloth broke the eye contact.

Talvas’s could feel his heartbeat in his throat just from watching the exchange – and still Vilco was standing tall and proud, and the corner of his lips twitched up just the slightest bit.

“I guess you’ll do until the ash spawn inevitably pick you off.” Master Neloth turned and made a dismissive hand gesture.

“Talvas, show him to the steward’s quarters and give him all his tasks. Since you’re already quite familiar with them.”

Vilco looked over at Talvas and made a show of rolling his eyes. A chuckle tried to claw up its way up his throat, and Talvas had a hard time suppressing it. That went terrible – and yet better than he had expected.

\--

Vilco was… well he certainly did his steward’s duties. He showed up every morning just after sunrise to bring breakfast; quiet, grumbly and looking like he just fell out of bed. Then he disappeared, for what Talvas assumed were few more hours of sleep, just to show up at noon with their lunch, looking much more put together and also much more chatty, sometimes peering over Talvas’s shoulder and asking what he was doing. He had more than a few spats with Master Neloth about how things were supposed to be done – but while Master Neloth complained about his new steward’s laziness, things just as well as they did when Varona was their steward. So, it looked like for now Vilco was to stay at Tel Mithryn.

However, it seemed that Vilco had his own list of things that he wanted to get done at Tel Mithryn that was more important than fulfilling the countless errands Master Neloth gave him. And befriending the other servants was right on top of that list.

“They don’t trust me because I’m an _outlander_.” Vilco had said when he asked Talvas for help. “I’m trying to befriend them with offerings of alcohol and good company. And since you’re the one who brought me here, you’ll have to vouch for me!”

Which is how Talvas found himself sat on a table with the new steward, the mycologist and the cook of Tel Mithryn, a cup of Shein placed in front of him.

Despite living at Tel Mithryn for close to thirteen years now, Talvas wasn’t very well acquainted with the other Dunmer at their settlement. When he had arrived, they already had their little group. Talvas felt weird about butting into their conversations, whenever he approached them. So up until now their interactions consisted of Talvas bothering them with orders from Master Neloth, which didn’t really help with making friends.

He took a sip of his Shein, and the burn of the alcohol at the back of his throat did its best to loosen the knot in his stomach. To his left, Vilco was sitting cross-legged on his chair, his chin propped up in his hands, messy curls falling in his face. He was listening to Elynea’s tales of her youth, asking questions in all the right places and offering his own comments where needed. After some time, he even managed to coax a few laughs out of the gruff mycologist and the grumpy cook.

It seemed that even after a few days, Elynea and Ulves already liked Vilco more than they would ever like Talvas.

He drank more of his Shein.

The conversation meandered from topic to topic, the older Dunmer sharing stories about Morrowind just before the eruption of the Red Mountain and growing up as refugees in Windhelm. All the while Talvas stayed quiet and listened. He didn’t feel like his childhood in a small village on the coast of Vvardenfell was much to talk about – it wasn’t great, but nowhere near as bad as it must have been just after the Red Year.

Vilco told a few stories about his travels through Skyrim, perhaps to defend his homeland from the two Dunmer who had quite the bad impression of it. Stories about rolling fields that were dotted with wildflowers that could be used to make potions, and perfumes, and oils, and soaps. About old keeps that were once used to capture dragons. About setting foot in a city for the first time and falling in love with it immediately. It all sounded so different from everything Talvas had ever known, and he wondered if he would ever get to see those things for himself. Perhaps one day, when he was more than a mere apprentice.

And then, perhaps it was inevitable, their topic of conversation landed on Master Neloth.

“That blasted canis root tea!” Ulves exclaimed and slammed his cup on the table, a bit of his Shein sloshing out. “You would think in his old age Neloth would have developed some tastebuds. I don’t know how he drinks the stuff! He keeps complaining that I water it down, but I can barely taste test the stuff as it is!”

“Doesn’t canis root paralyze you in high concentrations?” Vilco asked as he filled his own cup with Shein. He held up the bottle, offering Talvas a refill. Talvas shook his head. He was already on his third cup and could feel the tingle of intoxication in his tongue and his fingertips. And he still had to go back up to the laboratory later.

“Canis root also has other properties. I’ve heard some people use it in potions that help you get more focused.” Elynea slid her cup over the table, letting Vilco refill it to the brim. “Though why Neloth prefers in the form of tea is also lost to me.”

Talvas swirled the remaining Shein in his cup, trailing the bubbles on the surface with his eyes. He had tried canis root tea once when he was till new at Tel Mithryn. Master Neloth complained that it was too weak and made Talvas drink it for a second opinion. Even the ‘weak’ tea had Talvas’s whole mouth go dry at the bitterness, and he had to gulp down several cups of water to get rid of the taste.

“Maybe he uses it to stay awake.” He said, still absentmindedly looking at the contents of his cup.

And then, when the other’s eyes all snapped to him, he realized that it was the first thing he had said all evening.

He slunk down in his chair and took another sip from his cup, trying to hide behind it. The buzz of the alcohol had settled behind his eyes and had inevitably loosened his tongue. He should have stopped after the first cup.

“An interesting theory.” Elynea said with narrowed eyes. “Care to elaborate?”

“Uh,” Talvas looked into his cup. It was empty. No more drinking to avoid talking. “The uh, - the paralyzing effect. It could help him keep his eyes open. Combined with the effects on concentration – maybe it helps him focus? Sometimes he just sits there and stares for hours.”

“But canis root also depletes your stamina if you eat it raw. Wouldn’t that make him even more tired?” The mycologist tapped her fingers on her cup in thought.

“Not if you cook it long enough. I think. The heat might destroy the components that cause that.”

He was probably wrong. Alchemy was one of the skills he was less confident in. And Elynea was more experienced, and she would probably tell him that he was stupid for even suggesting such a thing –

“I hadn’t thought about that.” The alchemist relaxed back into her chair and took a long drink from her cup.

Talvas was stunned. So his theory wasn’t stupid and uniformed?

“I didn’t know about the ‘staring into nothingness for hours’-part.” Vilco said, eyebrows drawn together in concern. “Are there other weird things I should know about?”

“Well,” Elynea said with a raspy laugh, “where should I even start?”

And so, they started telling stories about life at Tel Mithryn. About failed experiments, successful experiments that still had questionable outcomes and ridiculous requests from Master Neloth. Even Talvas shared some of the more amusing stories he had – it was unexpectedly nice.

Eventually their conversation reached a natural lull and Elynea declared that the should all try to get some sleep. Vilco, face flushed bronze from the alcohol, pouted, but eventually cleared the table and waved them off at the door. Talvas was just about to leave, when Vilco laid a hand on his elbow.

“You should sober up a little before you go back up to the tower.” He suggested. “I’m sure old… _Wrinkly_ doesn’t take too kindly to you sneaking back after a wild night of drinking.”

“Wrinkly?” Talvas laughed. “He doesn’t even have that many wrinkles.”

“Well. He’s pretty old though.” Vilco shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts. “I drank too much to come up with a clever nickname.” He stepped back into the room and held the door open. “Just come back in and at least drink a cup of water before you go back up.”

Talvas really shouldn’t have stayed any longer. But then again, he wasn’t particularly looking forward to the bedroll that was waiting for him on the cold floor in the corner of the laboratory.

He stepped back inside and Vilco closed the door behind him.

Talvas sat back down at the table, watching Vilco rinse two cups, set them down, filla jug with water from a small barrel in the corner of the room, and then fill both of their cups before sitting down next to him.

The water was cold, and fresh, and soothing to his dry throat. Talvas emptied half of his cup in one go. He hadn’t realized how parched he was.

“It took a while to get you talking tonight.” Vilco said, shooting Talvas an inquiring look before lifting his own cup to his lips.

“I don’t think Elynea and Ulves like me very much.” Talvas admitted. “I spent so much time up in the tower with Master Neloth, I hardly ever talk to them.”

“Sounds lonely.” Vilco turned his cup in his hands. “Maybe you should make time.”

“It’s not that easy. I have a lot of work to do. For Master Neloth.”

“You made time today, when I asked.”

“I did you a favor.” Talvas took another sip from his cup, smiling. “Don’t expect this to become a habit.”

This earned him a chuckle from Vilco, a quiet one that ended with the man biting his lip and shaking his head. Talvas felt a flutter in his stomach. Probably an effect of the alcohol.

“So, your important work for Neloth. I’ve been meaning to ask…” Vilco paused and refilled Talvas’s empty cup. “In the short time I’ve been here, I’ve already seen you walk around with unnaturally big ears, singed clothes, and frostbite - enough times to know that the experiments you assist with can’t be particularly pleasant or safe.”

He looked at Talvas.

“You’ve heard the others. Things like that are not unusual for Tel Mithryn.”

Talvas looked at table. He didn’t need Vilco feeling sorry for him.

“Is he forcing you to be his test subject?”

“I can assure you that he will not test any spell on you if you don’t agree to it. He’ll ask you if you want to volunteer, but you can always say no.”

“That’s not why I was asking.” Vilco said, voice steady. “I was asking about you.”

“Sometimes being Master Neloth’s apprentice can be… painful.” Talvas said after a while. “But if I want to be a great wizard one day, that requires hard work. And that includes volunteering for Master Neloth’s experiments sometimes.”

“But you could still say no?”

“You don’t get it.” Talavs’s voice cut through the calmness of the room like a knife. “Being the apprentice to a Telvanni wizard – something like that won’t happen again. This is an opportunity I can’t pass up.”

“But is it still such a great opportunity if you have to suffer for it? Will you lose it for standing up for yourself once in a while?”

“If I want to inherit all of Master Neloth’s power one day, I have to do this. And then it will be worth it.”

“That might not happen, though.” Vilco insisted.

“Are you saying that I’m not working hard enough?” Talvas looked back up to meet Vilco’s eyes. There was… _something_ in them. Pity perhaps.

“That’s not what I was saying. What I mean is – the way you put it, it’s still up to Neloth if he let’s you inherit all his power. He might let you suffer as his test subject for years, just to decide that he won’t let you have what you want.”

“But that’s how it works!” He was growing tired of this conversation. “I work hard now, and then one day – “

“And when is that?” Vilco interrupted him. “From what I can tell you’re already a damn good wizard. So stand up to Neloth. Make demands – you don’t have to reduce yourself to being his test subject. Or leave. Find _power_ somewhere else. Literally do anything that doesn’t involve Neloth potentially freezing your toes off.”

“I can’t.” He tightened the grip on his cup. “I need to –“

_Become a full member of House Telvanni? Achieve what none of his ancestors had managed before him? Prove everyone who said that he wouldn’t last as Master Neloth’s apprentice wrong? Know what would come next?_

“– go back to the tower.”

Talvas stood up, the chair making a dissonant squeak as he pushed it back. He set his cup back on the table, a bit more forceful than was necessary. Made his way to the door in a few strides. Paused. Took a deep breath.

Behind him, Vilco remained quiet.

Talvas turned around. “Thank you for the water.”

Vilco looked back at him from beneath dark lashes, expression unreadable. He sighed.

“Take care, Talvas.”

Talvas stepped out, the door falling shut behind him. And as he walked back to the tower, the winds of Solstheim nipping at his ears and whipping gusts of ash into his face, he thought of every bit of power that he could squeeze out of this apprenticeship and that would make everything worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This conversation did not go where either of them expected, oopsie.


	3. Summon Familiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talvas teaches Vilco a spell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, this chapter is absolutely not relevant to the plot, I just wanted to write the boys being adorable together. I take a few liberties with the conjure familiar spell in this chapter, read the end notes for a rant about that.

Talvas fully expected Vilco to avoid him after their conversation had turned… uncomfortable. But surprisingly, that didn’t happen. If anything, Vilco was seeking out his company even more.

It started out with a potion against the alcohol-induced headache, that Vilco had wordlessly pressed into Talvas’s hands the morning after. Continued with extra cups of tea – thankfully not Canis root – that Vilco brought up for him. Questions about his work that turned into short conversations. Invitations to have lunch with the other servants. And right now, Vilco dragging Talvas out of the tower with him to go hunt for some Mudcrabs by the river, after Master Neloth had ordered – _requested_ Mudcrab soup for dinner.

Vilco had taken Talvas with him, claiming that he needed someone watch out for any ash spawn. Which was a fair concern – especially since Talvas had just learned that Vilco didn’t know any spells to defend himself.

“None? Really? Not even a simple Frost spell?” Talvas asked.

“Well, I can do this –“ Vilco held out his right hand, brows furrowed and jaw set. Talvas was starting to think that nothing was going to happen, when a tiny, rather pathetic flame started dancing along the surface of Vilco’s palm before a gust of wind put it out.

“So, as you can probably tell, this wouldn’t be particularly helpful to me when traversing murder island.” Vilco went back to flicking stones into the water, trying to rouse some Mudcrabs from their hiding places.

Talvas let out a quiet laugh through his nose – _murder island_ , another one to add to the list of ridiculous nicknames Vilco came up with.

“But the fact that you can do that means you can already tap into your magicka. If you’d practice a little, and perhaps read some books about –“

“I’m happy to inform you that I have read plenty of books.” Vilco flicked another stone into the river. Nothing. He continued to walk further downstream. “But all the books on magical theory were either incredibly boring or made my head hurt.”

“Maybe you just haven’t read the right books?” Talvas teased.

Vilco shot him a glare.

“It’s just so _complicated_. So many theories and so much… academic hogwash. About things that you cannot see or touch or ask what their deal is...” He paused, digging out a small pebble from the ash with his foot. “I guess I can’t really… grasp it.”

That was… interesting. Understanding magical theories sometimes posed a challenge, but it had never really been _hard_ for Talvas. He had spent hours upon hours poring over the thickest tomes, trying to absorb everything that he could, even back when he was just a child. It was fascinating – and it was even more satisfying to successfully cast the spells that he had learned. His magicka had always burned hot in his veins, waiting to burst out of his skin, ready to explore the different possibilities to bend the elements to his will, to dip into different realms of Oblivion. He never needed to be able to see it or touch it, he just knew that it was there, coiled like a serpent ready to strike and inherently a part of him like an extra limb.

But if Vilco needed the reassurance of seeing his own magicka, to be able to touch it – Talvas had an idea.

“I can teach you a spell, if you want.”

Vilco stopped himself from kicking the pebble he had just freed, turned around and faced Talvas with folded arms and narrowed eyes.

“What, like Neloth is teaching you?”

His tone was questioning, a challenge. A remnant of their conversation from the other night. But there was also a playfulness, supported by the slight upturn of his lips. A different path this conversation could take.

“I don’t think that Master Neloth’s teaching methods would be very helpful in your case,” Talvas said. “But there’s this one spell…”

He looked around and spotted an outcropping of rocks just at the edge of the mushroom forest. “We should sit down for this.”

Vilco followed Talvas’s gaze, then looked back at Talvas, and then at the ground in contemplation. Eventually, he uncrossed his arms, sighed and began walking away from the river.

“Might as well try.”

Talvas bit back the excited smile that threatened to creep onto his face.

They sat down, cross-legged and facing each other. The sun shone down on them, hot but not unbearable. A light breeze painted its trails in the ashy soil and ruffled their hair. They could hear the cries of Solstheim’s lone Silt Strider in the distance.

“First, I need you to cast that flame spell again. But this time try to concentrate on where the flame is coming from. The source of power – something within you.”

Vilco looked at Talvas, curious, confused and slightly annoyed at the same time.

“Something like what?”

“Something like – power maybe. Since the flame spell is destruction magic. Magic can take many different forms though, so what it naturally feels like for you might be different. It’s something that is you, but also not you – it’s your connection to Aetherius – that doesn’t really matter right now. But it’s what you’re using to cast spells. Just try to feel it, grab it, and hold onto it with your mind.”

Vilco stretched his hand out like he had before and started glaring at it. This time, absolutely nothing happened. He sighed.

“While I do like your enthusiasm, your instructions somehow made it worse.” He grumbled.

“You could do it before. You can do it again.” Talvas encouraged him.

Vilco let his hand drop in his lap with a long-suffering sigh.

“What does it feel like for you? When you’re casting a spell?”

Talvas thought about it. At this point, manipulating his magicka had become second nature to him. He didn’t quite need to feel it anymore, not like he was trying to make Vilco feel his own magicka right now. Unless it was an overly complicated spell that Master Neloth had him work on. And even then, the complicated part was less manipulating his magicka and more understanding what exactly he was trying to do with it.

“It’s something that wants to protect me when I’m casting destruction magic.” He said after some contemplation. No doubt that was a result of Master Neloth throwing fireballs at him until he learned to divert them.

Vilco replied with a thoughtful hum. He stretched out his hand again.

“Maybe try closing your eyes?” Talvas suggested after nothing happened again.

“What, so you can throw a fireball to my face?” Vilco frowned.

“I won’t. I promise. I just think it might help you concentrate. And you’ll stop glaring at your hand like it has personally offended you.”

Vilco’s frown only deepened, but eventually he closed his eyes.

Talvas watched him. His eyebrows were knotted together in concentration, forming a deep line in between them. His lips were pressed together in a thin line. The wind picked up and blew his wild curls away from his face. And then his features relaxed and a flame flickered up in his palm, much stronger than the one he had produced before. His eyes snapped open.

Vilco looked at his palm, an incredulous look on his face. Talvas couldn’t help but smile at his expression. “You’ve found it.”

“It seems I have.” Vilco said, voice soft, quiet, still disbelieveing, before closing his hand to a fist and extinguishing the flame. He looked back at Talvas with a smile.

Talvas felt his breath catch in his throat. He swallowed. Better carry on with the lesson.

“Right. So now, hold out your hand like this –“ Talvas demonstrated the appropriate hand gesture to cast the spell, and Vilco copied it perfectly. “And then aim it over there –“ He reached out and gently redirected Vilco’s arm to point into the ash. “And then do the same thing as before, grabbing on to your magicka. But don’t cast a flame spell. Let your magicka flow out as it is and let it take a form that it wants.”

“And then what?”

“You’re going to summon a familiar.”

Vilco’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead, he pressed his lips together in a thin line and he immediately crossed his arms.

“Talvas, I can barely control a simple flame spell, and you’re trying to get me to summon some ungodly creature straight from the depths of Oblivion?”

“No.” Talvas explained calmly. “It’s a summoning, not a conjuration. A mirror image of something that exists somewhere, created by your own magicka. For your first attempt it will most likely be something that you know. No realms of Oblivion involved.” He assured Vilco. “You’d know the difference if you read the right books.” He added because he just couldn’t help himself.

Vilco gave him an unimpressed eyeroll. “You do know that if this thing mauls me, you’ll become Neloth’s errand boy again, right?”

“It won’t maul you. It’s basically an extra arm. You’ll be _fine_.” Talvas assured him. “Now go ahead and try it.”

Vilco threw Talvas another look, eyes slightly narrowed, bottom lip caught in between his teeth, before he uncrossed his arms and held out his hand again. He glared at the spot where he was aiming. Nothing happened for several moments.

“Maybe you should try and relax –“

Vilco turned to glare at Talvas.

“I _am_ trying.” He sighed in frustration. “Turn around.”

“What?”

“I can’t cast with you watching me. Turn around and don’t look!”

Talvas chuckled at the request, but still turned his back to Vilco. It wasn’t as if anything too bad could happen. And if his friend thought this might help, Talvas would do him this favour.

“Are you casting it?” Talvas asked after he heard nothing but the wind and Vilco’s frustrated huffs for several minutes.

“Shhhh! I almost had it. I think.”

Talvas bit his lip to keep himself from saying anything else. He couldn’t resist turning his head to peer over his shoulder though.

Vilco had closed his eyes now and was visibly fighting the frown that was trying to find its way onto his face. He took another deep breath and finally, Talvas felt something shift. It was the telltale ripple of someone casting a spell, a stream of magicka bubbling up to the surface from deep within the spellcaster. A light formed in Vilco’s palm, shifting and stirring, still trying to find its form. Vilco released the spell, and before him an aethereal fox stitched itself together from rippling shreds of purple energy.

“Oh.” The sound escaped Vilco’s lips, quiet, astonished, involuntary.

“You did it!” Talvas turned back around to face Vilco properly. The Imperial was still looking at his fox familiar in awe.

“Huh.” The fox pattered over to Vilco, laying down in front of him and resting its head in his lap. Vilco leaned away from it, watching the fox carefully. When he had decided that it wasn’t a threat, he lowered his hands and started patting the fox on its head. The two of them made quite the adorable pair.

“He feels _weird_.” Vilco said after his hand had made a few passes over the fox’s muzzle. “Not – solid. Like he might disappear any second. Does that even make sense?”

“That’s because he’s not really here. Or he is – but he’s you. Your magicka. It’s actually quite fascinating if you dig deeper into the theories on the origin of magic, and –“ Talvas stopped himself when the look on Vilco’s face turned to pure confusion. “I guess I can tell you about that on another day. But you said you wanted something you can see and touch. Or talk to if you want, although I doubt he’s a very good conversationalist.”

“And I can give him commands?”

“With more practice, sure. You could make him take other forms for a start.” Talvas had expected – well, not a small cuddly fox that was currently baring its belly to the man who had summoned him. A wolf perhaps, since Vilco grew up in Skyrim. A bear or a sabrecat, something that could hold its own against an ash spawn for a bit. Something to keep Vilco safe in the unforgiving ash wastes of Solstheim. But he supposed he should be grateful that it wasn’t something entirely defenseless, like a rabbit. Or a chicken.

For now he’d probably just attack anything that wants to harm you. He doesn’t look too effective against any ash spawn though, so I guess I’ll have to continue guarding you from the dangers of Solstheim until you can summon a stronger familiar.” Talvas thought about all the work that would remain undone because he would be busy looking out for their steward on his errands. The thought wasn’t nearly as irritating as it ought to be.

“Are you implying that foxy here isn’t already strong?” Vilco protested in mock offence.

“Well, right now he seems more interested in getting belly rubs aside from anything else.” The fox swished his tail, looking up at Vilco expectantly. Talvas laughed. “Maybe try giving him a command.”

Vilco took a moment, his face lighting up when he came up with a good command. “Right. Watch this: Go hunt some mudcrabs for us!”

Talvas dissolved into laughter as the fox remained cuddled up in Vilcos lap, ignoring his master’s indignant squawks of protest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, why does summon familiar always summon a wolf in Skyrim? Aren’t familiars meant to be something that is closely connected to whoever summons them? So, I went with a version of the familiar spell that is slightly more D&D-ish, with the familiar taking on a form that somewhat reflects the summoner’s personality. Also, I don’t think it makes sense to summon a familiar from Oblivion. I feel like summoning a familiar is a very vanilla spell – something that’s like baby’s first conjuration, and I don’t think straight up opening a rift to Oblivion and risking pulling something more dangerous than a wolf (also why are there wolves in Oblivion) through would be one of the first spells a conjurer learns. It’s probably like training wheels – a method for new conjurers to practice controlling a bound creature that does not actually have the potential to harm them. I borrowed the concept of differentiating between summoning and conjuring from [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Morrowind/comments/9sunmr/the_telvanni_guide_to_conjuration/) – well worth a read and honestly so much better than anything I have written.
> 
> Also, I’ve decided that Talvas’s familiar was a cliff racer that fucking jump scared him the first time he summoned it as a little baby elf. No, I will not elaborate what that says about his personality.


	4. Letter from a friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another supply run to Raven Rock ends a bit differently than Talvas expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, but there’s actually some plot in this chapter!

Escorting Vilco on supply runs to Raven Rock was a welcome change from his routine of doing spell research and experiments for Master Neloth, and something that Talavs had started looking forward to. A little voice in the back of his head still insisted that he should be more concerned about falling behind with his work, but at the end of the day he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it.

The walk to Raven Rock had almost become a leisurely stroll – as far as that was possible on Solstheim. Most days the road was calm enough; Talvas conjured a frost atronach whenever ash spawn decided to raise up from the island’s soil and Vilco’s fox familiar tried his best to go after any ash hoppers that came too close. All the while, Vilco made remarks about the landscape, asked questions about Dunmeri culture or made them stop for too long to gawk at a family of netches.

In town, Talvas was content to hang back while Vilco took care of his errands. The townspeople weren’t half as suspicious of the Imperial as they were of Talvas. He wondered what they thought of Vilco, if they thought he got mixed up in Telvanni affairs without knowing what he was getting into. If Vilco had any similar suspicions of his own, he didn’t let it bother him. He drifted from merchant to merchant, talking and laughing with them like they were old friends. He was also rather successful at haggling; enough to have a good amount of spare coins left at the end of the day. Coins that he was currently trying to convince Talvas to spend on themselves.

“Master Neloth will notice,” Talvas insisted, “he knows exactly how many coins he gives you for supplies.”

“As if he would know the current price for a bucket of cabbages. I’ll just make stuff up about a bad harvest in Skyrim if he even thinks to ask about it. But I doubt he cares about what goes on anywhere that isn’t right outside his tower.” Vilco nudged Talvas with his elbow. “Come on. There has to be a rebellious streak somewhere within you.”

Talvas rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics. But he also couldn’t really argue against him. Master Neloth didn’t care about what his servants did as long as it didn’t interfere with his work – and Talvas had peeked into notes that he wasn’t exactly supposed to look at often enough to know they could get away with being a little disobedient.

“Oh, all right.” Talvas said. The playful grin that lit up Vilco’s face made him chuckle. “What did you have in mind?”

“I saw Gjalunds ship when we arrived!” Vilco was practically vibrating with excitement. “Let’s go ask the Nords fort some mead.”

“Couldn’t we get the mead at the Cornerclub? Or from the merchant?” It was hard enough to make polite conversation with the Dunmer in Raven Rock, but with the Nords it was even worse. Talvas didn’t exactly dislike the Nord sailors, he just didn’t know what to make of them. They were gruff. Loud. Slightly intimidating. He didn’t get them, and he suspected if he talked to them the feeling would be mutual.

“They always keep the good stuff to themselves.” Vilco argued. “Come on Talvas,” he added with a pleading tone. “Maybe they have news from back home.”

The confession was small, hidden, but honest. Vilco loved telling stories about places in Skyrim, or odd Nord customs, or how much better he thought the bread back in Skyrim was, and Talvas guessed that perhaps his friend was a little homesick. He would feel bad for saying no. And it wasn’t as if he’d be forced to talk to the sailors. Vilco tended to dominate most conversations he was involved in, which Talvas didn’t mind. It gave him an excuse to observe and listen, and enough time to come up with something clever to add.

“You’re the expert,” Talvas conceded. “Lead the way.”

Vilco squeezed Talvas’s shoulder and smiled at him. It was an honest smile, small and soft and just for him – and it almost made his heart skip a beat.

That was a new thing that unfortunately kept happening. Talvas didn’t quite know how to feel about it or if he should do anything. He had come to the conclusion that Vilco was very friendly to _everyone_ – surely any impression that he treated Talvas differently in any way were simply delusions he came up with because Vilco was the first friend he had made in the last twelve years. So, he could be content with spending time as friends, maybe stealing a glance or two when nobody would notice. Their friendship was already more than he had ever hoped for. He would be an idiot to ruin it just because he thought Vilco to be very handsome when he smiled.

Talvas squashed any inappropriate thoughts as they made their way over to the docks. The wind blew the smell of saltwater, fish and sulfur their way. It also carried over the sound of Nordic voices; hollering commands, friendly banter and barking laughter. It wasn’t hard to spot the Northern Maiden – aside from a few local fishing boats it was the only ship that regularly came to Raven Rock.

Vilco didn’t take long to find someone he knew. He yelled over a greeting in Nordic to catch the attention of a tall Nord, who waved back and waited at the side of the ship for them to walk over. He had blond hair that reached his broad shoulders, and had an axe strapped to his side. Talvas couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated – it probably wouldn’t come to a fight, but if it did, this man could snap him in half before he even had the chance to conjure an atronach.

Vilco had apparently no such concerns. He stopped for a moment to thread his hands through his hair, letting it fall over the tips of his ears. Then he straightened up, squared his shoulders and walked over with a gait that seeped with confidence. It was an image so different from how he held himself when it was just the two of them – Talvas wondered if Vilco held back for his sake.

Vilco had spent more time around men like this than he had around scrawny mages like Talvas – apparent in the foreign language that flowed from his tongue, bouncy, melodic and strange to Talvas’s ears.

Vilco and the Nord exchanged whatever pleasantries were customary in Skyrim, before Vilco switched back to Tamrielic. Was it for Talvas’s benefit, or did Vilco actually prefer the trader’s tongue over Nordic? Either way, Talvas was thankful to be able to follow the conversation.

“Gjalund, this is my friend Talvas; Talvas, this is Gjalund, the captain if this ship.” The Nord, Gjalund, nodded at Talvas in acknowledgement. Talvas copied the gesture, having no idea what the common greeting among Nords was.

“I was actually wondering if you had any Honningbrew mead that you would be willing to part with.” Vilco asked, accompanied by a sheepish smile.

“Ah, and here I was wondering if you had finally enough of this island.” The Nord laughed.

“It’s not that bad once you get used to it.” Vilco shrugged and threw a wink to Talvas.

Talvas swallowed.

“If you say so. But I have to disappoint you, no Honningbrew. I could dig out a bottle or two of Black-Briar reserve if you offer a few coins though.”

“Black-Briar?” Vilco gasped in mock offence.

Gjalund laughed.

“Thought you’d prefer it since you speak the Riften dialect.”

“Just because I was born there doesn’t mean I can’t be a Whiterun boy at heart!” Vilco protested. “Besides, every mead connoisseur knows that Honningbrew is superior in every way – but Black-Briar will do, I guess. If you’re also willing to share news from Skyrim, that is.”

At this, the captain visibly perked up. “Oh lad, you wouldn’t believe it. We almost didn’t make it here!”

“How come?”

“A dragon attacked Windhelm just before we left!”

“A dragon?!” Talvas gasped. Had he heard that right?

Gjalund nodded and turned to Talvas. “Aye lad. I didn’t quite believe this talk of dragons roaming Skyrim again before I saw one of the beasts myself. It was absolutely terrifying.”

Dragons? In Skyrim? Would they make it to Solstheim? And why was this the first time Talvas heard about this?

“What happened to the dragon?” Vilco asked. Talvas looked at him – his usual easy smile was now replaced by him worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and he was gripping on to both his elbows, perhaps a bit harder than neccessary.

“Well, there’s the second rumor I didn’t believe proven true: The Dragonborn took it down all by herself and then absorbed its soul right there!”

“Dragonborn?” Talvas asked, but he was drowned out by Vilco’s high pitched injection of:

“She fought the dragon _alone_?!”

“The guards helped shoot it down.” Gjalund said, slightly taken aback by Vilco’s dramatic reaction. “But they weren’t really much help once she started shouting fire right back at the beast. And then she jumped on its back and started hacking away at it. It was quite the sight.”

“Fire…” Vilco muttered to himself, “That’s… good. Yeah, fire’s good. Uhm –“ He looked back up to captain Gjalund, brows pinched. “Is there a courier on this ship? Or anyone who can bring a letter back to Skyrim – discreetly?”

“Maruel over there is a courier –“ Gjalund pointed over to a slender Breton who was busy playing cards with a few of the Nord sailors, “but we’ll leave in an hour when the tide goes out. You’ll have to hand him your letter before then.”

“Right.” Vilco said, looking nowhere in particular and twisting the strap of his bag in his hands. “That’s – I can do an hour. Uh, I’ll have to sort out some things. But I – I’ll make it back in time.” He looked at the captain. “Don’t leave before I come back.”

He dashed off without another word, leaving both the captain and Talvas looking after him in confusion.

“Any idea what’s got him so nervous?”

Talvas shook his head. The whole exchange left him confused and concerned.

“Whatever it was, you can take these.” Gjalund grabbed two bottles of mead from a crate that was next to him and handed them to Talvas. “Your friend looked like he might need them.”

Talvas followed Vilco back into town, but his friend was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t at the blacksmith’s, at the farm or in the Cornerclub – and Talvas wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of asking around the Redoran councilors’ house if they had seen Vilco. Eventually, the blacksmith took pity on him and directed him to the edge of town, past the farm. There were only some abandoned houses, that he was definitely not supposed to enter; the guards liked to remind people of this fact. But one of the doors looked like it had been opened recently, the ash on the doorstep disturbed by someone’s feet.

Talvas made sure none of the guards where watching him before tried the doorknob – the door swung open.

Vilco, sat on the floor surrounded by a spread of loose pieces of paper, snapped up his head at the sound of the door opening, his body tense and strung like a bow. He relaxed a little when he saw that it was Talvas, but the nervous expression on his face remained before he looked back at the mess front of him.

“At least close the door if you have to be here.” Vilco said quietly after a moment.

Talvas shuffled into the room and closed the door behind him as instructed. He couldn’t decipher what was written on the papers, it was too dark, a single lantern next to Vilco illuminating his close proximity. Talvas reflexively cast a magelight. Vilco looked up at him and give him the barest hint of a smile before he went back to shuffling around his notes.

The magelight helped him see the papers better, but they still didn’t make any more sense to him. He crouched down and carefully picked up one of them, one that looked like it was a page torn from a very old book. The text was in Nordic, but his grasp of the language wasn’t good enough to guess at the contents. Notes in both Nordic and Tamrielic were squeezed in the edges, written in Vilco’s loopy handwriting.

“I’m not sure I should let you see this.” Vilco gingerly plucked the page from Talvas’s hands and placed it back to where it had been picked it up from – on the edge of a crudely drawn map of Skyrim.

“Maybe I can help.”

Vilco breathed out a half-hearted laugh. “How good is your ancient Nordic? Or your general knowledge of Skyrim’s geography?”

“Bad.” Talvas admitted. “But maybe if you told me what this is about –“

“I have an hour. This is waaay too much to explain in an hour.” Vilco waved his hand over the scattered papers. He pushed his hair back with a sigh and nervously twisted the tip of his ear in between his fingers.

“I can finish this by myself before they leave, but –“ he looked back at Talvas, “if you could try to keep the ship from leaving for as long as possible, that would be… that would help. Buy me some time to make sense of this mess.”

Talvas wanted to protest. He desperately wanted to know what was going on – whatever Vilco’s notes were about, they looked incredibly intriguing, and above anything else, seeing his friend so concerned left his stomach in knots. But he had also done enough of his own research – because this was _definitely_ what this was – to know that sometimes notes and annotations would only make sense to whoever wrote them. And he trusted Vilco to know what he was doing, which was currently shooting Talvas another pleading look that told him that he really should leave. So Talvas gave Vilco his best encouraging smile, got up and stuck another magelight to the ceiling before he left Vilco with his stack of papers.

\--

Talvas spent some time loitering around the docks, the watchful gaze of the guard posted at the entrance to the town prickling at his neck. He had no idea what he could do to delay the departure of the ship. He didn’t want to sabotage them, and even if he did decide to take this course of action, he didn’t know enough about ships to make delay their departure without straight up setting the sails of the ship on fire. But even with his limited knowledge of seafaring, Talvas could tell that they were getting closer to leaving.

So, he did the only thing that came to mind, he walked over and tried to start a conversation. Which was a bit of a problem, since Talvas wasn’t the best at any form of smalltalk. _Especially_ with Nord sailors. There was so little they had in common – so it took a bit of stammering and awkward questions before he finally hit a nerve and managed to get a group of Nord sailors gather at the side of the ship and excitedly sharing their stories with Talvas. And of course, that topic was the mysterious Dragonborn.

The details that Talvas could gather from the chattering of the sailors were these:  
The Dragonborn was a woman. She had been with the Whiterun guard during one of the first dragon attacks and apparently absorbed the beast’s soul right after it had been killed. And since that day she had become quite notorious all over Skyrim. Aside from slaying dozens of dragons, she also took out several bandit camps, recovered ancient artifacts from decrepit dungeons and generally took on any task that people had for her. All of that had the emerging hero of Skyrim feared and adored by an equal number of people. Talvas suspected that some of the stories had to be made up – but still, the mere thought of someone who could face a dragon on their own and live to tell the tale – it was scary, intimidating, intriguing.

“Come on, stop telling the mer those crazy tales and get ready to sail out.” The loud voice of captain Gjalund had the sailors scattering back to their posts with hurried excuses and goodbyes to Talvas.

“Where’s your friend?”

“You’re leaving?” Talvas looked back to the entrance to the town, but Vilco was nowhere to be seen. “Can’t you wait just a moment longer? I’m sure he’ll be right here –“

“If he wants to make it here in time, maybe you should go and fetch him.”

Talvas closed his eyes and tried to ignore the tight feeling in his chest. Had he even delayed the departure of the ship by even just a little bit? The least he could do was run and tell Vilco that they were about to leave.

He was about to round the corner into town, when Vilco crashed into him at a full sprint, knocking them both over.

“Did the ship leave already?!” Vilco scrambled back up to his feet. He had charcoal smears on his hands and sleeves, and his usually neat curls were disheveled by hands that had been pulling at them too many times.

“They’re still here. I was coming to get you –“

Vilco didn’t let him finish. He took off in a sprint, leaving Talvas sat on his backside to watch him make his way back to the ship and asking around for the courier. As Talvas got up and walked back to the ship, he could see Vilco press a folded letter into the courier’s hand. The courier laughed at something Vilco said – and then abruptly stopped when Vilco’s serious expression didn’t change. And then the courier shook his head and handed back the letter, causing Vilco to desperately pull out some more gold pieces from his bag.

“I’ll pay you double.” Talvas was close enough to hear Vilco plead with the courier.

“That won’t help me with finding her.” The courier protested. “She’s not one to stay in one place for too long!”

“Come on. I have to get this to her. And it’s literally your job – don’t you couriers have a sacred code that keeps you from refusing the delivery of very important letters?”

“That’s a myth that we have a hard time getting rid off.” The courier still had his arms crossed and refused to take the letter back.

“ _Please_ ,” Vilco dug out some more coins, the amount of gold now rather sizable. “This is three times your usual payment. I’m not even asking for a speedy delivery – just get it to her, it doesn’t matter how long it takes, even if it ends up being a month or two.”

The courier looked unmoved by Vilco’s desperate pleas.

“Do you want me to beg? I’m not above begging at this point. I’ll literally get down my knees in front of you and –“

“Alright, alright, stop that, get back up.” The courier grabbed Vilco’s arm and pulled him back up as he was about to kneel in front of him. “You don’t have to embarrass yourself. I’ll take your letter. And you keep the extra gold.” He plucked the letter from Vilco’s hand and accepted some of the gold coins. “I’ll try to get this letter to her, but I’m not promising you anything.”

“Thank you.” Vilco allowed himself to relax a little, his shoulders slumping slightly forwards. “That is all I really ask for.”

The courier gave him a court nod, still looking slightly annoyed before he went back to mingle with the sailors who were about to lift the ship’s anchor. Vilco gave Gjalund a lackluster salute – the captain nodded in acknowledgement before he ordered his men to sail out.

Talvas stepped to Vilco’s side and they watched the ship sail out together.

“So,” Talvas broke the silence after the ship was well out of earshot. “Are you going to tell me what this whole thing was about?”

Vilco turned to him and gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes before looking down at the ground again. He sighed before he picked up his slumped shoulders and spoke in a quiet voice.

“Can we go back to Tel Mithryn first?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how I feel about this chapter – things are starting to get plotty and this is all a bit out of my comfort zone.
> 
> Also I don’t know much about ships or tides and whatnot, but I’m sure Nirn’s tides are all weird with them having two moons and all.


	5. Bed (owned)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vilco tells Talvas about the Dragonborn and they make a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guess from the chapter title which trope I put in this chapter?

Vilco was quiet on the way back. The untypical silence affected Talvas more than he would have expected. He felt the need to say something, anything that would make Vilco look less… deflated. But what could he even say when he didn’t even know what his friend was thinking about?

He was trying to make sense of the pieces of information he had gathered today. There was the whole dragon thing of course, which had Talvas quite worried the more he thought about it. Skyrim was not too far away from Solstheim – would dragons make their way over to the island soon? Could Master Neloth take on a dragon? Probably. But could a mere apprentice like Talvas do the same? He doubted it.

Why hadn’t Vilco mentioned the dragons even once? He wasn’t surprised when the captain had first mentioned them – he knew about them already. Vilco wasn’t shy about delivering long rambling speeches about his homeland, from mundane things like the regional differences in mead, gossip on Nord nobility or who he thought was the best tailor in Solitude, to more serious topics like his detailed opinion on every party involved in the civil war that was currently brewing in Skyrim. The threat of dragons looming over the country – it was too big of a fact to just forget. Vilco must have purposefully left it out.

And then there was the mysterious Dragonborn, who Talvas was pretty sure was the recipient of Vilco’s letter. The reluctance of the courier to take it and his claims that he would have a hard time tracking down who it was addressed to – it just fit together. On top of that, there was his reaction to hearing that the Dragonborn took on a dragon all by herself. Vilco knew the Dragonborn – but how?

Were they friends? Family? Lovers?

Talvas hoped it wasn’t the last option since it made him feel like a heavy stone had just dropped to the bottom of his stomach.

Could he just bombard Vilco with all of these questions? For one, they felt horribly invasive, and he wasn’t about to dig through the details of Vilco’s private life. Besides, his friend probably had his reasons for not mentioning any of this. Perhaps they weren’t good enough friends yet. It stung more than Talvas expected – but he understood. Considering everything, they barely knew each other. So, he resigned himself to trudging back to Tel Mithryn in sullen silence and hiding his disappointment when Vilco made up some excuse to flee to his room as soon as they arrived.

They barely saw each other the rest of the day. Master Neloth had Talvas wrapped up in an experiment the moment he stepped into the lab. Vilco came up to bring their dinner like usual, but when Talvas caught his eyes he quickly averted his gaze.

It was late now, and Master Neloth finally allowed Talvas to take a break after what must have been hours of experimentation with fire spells. He had been subject to far worse experiments before, but even a Dunmer had a limit to being fireproof. He took care of the worst of his burns with a healing spell, but his restoration wasn’t good enough to stop the skin on the back of his hand from feeling numb and too thin. At least the years as Master Neloth’s apprentice had taught him to keep a salve for treating burns. He went to retrieve it from his satchel and his hand brushed against something cold and smooth in the process – the two bottles of mead the captain had given to him.

He hastily applied the salve to his hand, before grabbing the bottles and slipping out of the tower before Master Neloth noticed him. The grey skies that had loomed over the island during the day had turned into a drizzle that made Talvas’s hair curl at the tips. He made his way over to the steward’s quarters and knocked – and was just about to leave the mead at the doorstep and go back to the tower when no one answered for several beats.

The door opened and Vilco peeked out. He stared at Talvas, his body half hidden by the door, with his face not giving away any emotion. Talvas straightened up, held out the two bottles of mead and nearly dropped them.

“I brought you alcohol! And my company. If you want.”

Vilco regarded him for a few tense seconds before his eyes softened just the tiniest bit and he stepped aside to let Talvas come in.

The steward’s quarters had taken on a different personality since Vilco had taken residence in them. The alchemy ingredients from their first meeting were scattered throughout the room, along with even more candles and lanterns. A stack of books sat next to the bed, right next to a neat arrangement of Vilco’s possessions. There was a new pillow on the bed. The fire in the pit was roaring. It felt homely – much more than Talvas’s nook up in the tower.

Vilco drifted over to the table at the edge of the room, sitting down in his chair with the heels of his feet resting on its edge and his knees pulled up to his chest. Talvas sat down on the other side of the table and offered Vilco one of the bottles of mead. His friend gladly accepted and clinked their bottles together before taking a long sip from it an immediately pulling a face.

“It’s pisswarm.”

Talvas let himself laugh openly at the profanity. “Give it here.”

He took the bottle from Vilco, set it down on the table and pulled just the slightest bit of magicka to the tip of his index finger. Then he cast the weakest frost spell he could manage on the bottle. The glass immediately frosted over, but its contents remained liquid.

Vilco examined the bottle with wide eyes before picking it up again and taking another sip. This time he reacted with an approving hum.

“That’s a neat trick,” he said while he watched Talvas do the same thing to his own bottle before taking his first sip. The mead was very sweet, but it was cut through by a fruity tartness. It came nowhere near a good Sujamma, but he could understand why it was the Nords’ drink of choice.

They sat together in silence. Vilco was turning the bottle of mead in his hands and staring into the firepit, lost in thought. It was weird seeing him like this, and Talvas still desperately wanted to know what was going on.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” he started when he couldn’t take the silence anymore, “but something is bothering you. I could – I mean, if you want to talk about it – I’m here.”

Vilco looked at Talvas for a long time without quite meeting his eyes. After another drink from his bottle he set it down on the table and hugged his knees tighter to his chest with a sigh.

“Do you have siblings, Talvas?”

“No.”

It had just been him and his parents – and then him and his overbearing Telvanni grandmother once his parents decided to leave him in her care before moving to Cyrodiil. He didn’t ever hear from them again. If they did have another child, they didn’t deem it necessary to inform him.

“I have a sister. Well, half-sister but –“ Vilco made a dismissive hand gesture. “And she’s stubborn, and reckless, and brave – and the blasted Dragonborn, apparently.”

Talvas sucked in a breath.

“And you sent her a letter?”

Vilco nodded.

“I’m trying to help her, I guess. In any way that I can. Even though she made it _very_ clear that she doesn’t want my help.”

“How are you helping her with a letter?”

Vilco was quiet for a moment, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve as he tried to come up with the right words.

“There are these… monuments scattered all over Skyrim, put there by some ancient Nords. And they have these words on them in the dragon language – apparently if you’re Dragonborn, you can learn the words and then… use… them.”

He slipped his feet down from the chair to sit upright before resting his arms on the table.

“To be honest I barely understand what the whole deal with them is. But I had to spend some time up on High Hrothgar with the Greybeards after –“, he paused. Swallowed. Pinched the tip of his ear. “…after things… went wrong. They weren’t really the best conversationalists, so I went through their entire library and found some things that I thought might be useful.”

“Things?”

“Weird old poems. Eulogies. Folk tales. Historical accounts. All with hints to those… word walls.”

“And you put the information together and then send her the locations.”

“I try.” Vilco grimaced. “But I’m honestly quite bad at it.” He took another sip of his mead before he propped up his head on his hands.

“Since I came down from the mountain I keep getting distracted though. With things like trying to learn alchemy. Or starting to work as a steward for Solstheim’s grumpiest wizard. It’s just – the more I think about it the more daunting it becomes and the less I want to do it. Which is just so entirely stupid –“ he buried his face in his arms and groaned. “Maybe I don’t want this enough.”

“I can help you.” The words fell out of Talvas’s mouth before he could stop them. Vilco looked so beat up about the whole thing, he just couldn’t stand it. There had to be something that he could do.

”I could give you advice.”

Vilco shifted to look up at Talvas, the bottom half of his face still hidden by his arms.

“I have done my own fair amount of research. And if my time with Master Neloth has taught me anything, it was how to make sense of his cryptic notes. I don’t know much about ancient Nords, or Skyrim, or Dragons – but I do know how to pick out important information from a book.”

“You don’t have to waste your time with me.”

“I _want_ to help you.”

“You already have so much work for Neloth –“

“Lots of which is paperwork which I can also do down here. With you.”

“Hm.” Vilco sat up straight, his gaze not meeting Talvas’s as he stared at the table in contemplation.

“If anything, I can try to keep you from getting distracted.”

Vilco looked up, the tiniest smile playing along the corners of his lips.

“I’m not sure that would work,” He leaned back in his chair, “but we might as well try.”

“It’s a deal then.” Talvas picked up his bottle and lifted it to Vilco in a silent toast. A short, snorted laugh escaped from Vilco before he picked up his own bottle, clinked it against Talvas’s and they both took a drink. The mead tasted even sweeter this time.

“If you’re going to help me, I think I owe you some more information.” Vilco put down his bottle on the table and stretched out in his chair like a languid cat. “Sure, you’ve put the little bits and pieces of information together because you’re very smart. But let’s be honest, I haven’t really gone into the detail of anything. And I know you’re curious, so: ask away.”

There were many questions floating around in Talvas’s head, and new ones seemed to pop up with every new piece of information that he got. Who were the Greybeards Vilco was talking about? Where was High Hrothgar? What exactly did it mean that his sister was Dragonborn?

But he could easily find these answers in a book, and even if Vilco had offered to answer them, they somehow felt cold. Impersonal. He would rather ask something that only Vilco could answer him.

“What’s your sister’s name?”

Talvas knew it was the right question to start with when more genuine smile graced Vilco’s lips.

“Her name is Ylva.”

\--

Falling into a new routine was quite easy. During the day, Talvas did his best to work on any of the more practical tasks Master Neloth gave him. In the evenings, he hauled the books his Master wanted him to read or the notes he wanted him to copy down with him as he snuck out of the tower and into Vilco’s room. There, Vilco ended up spreading his research on every free surface while Talvas kept his in neatly organized piles. They would have to work on Vilco’s organizational tactics one day, but for now they both got a surprising amount of work done.

It turns out having someone interrupt you when you have been reading the same sentence over and over for half an hour while trying to understand it could be quite helpful. Talvas ended up explaining bits and pieces of magical theory to Vilco, who despite claiming that it made his head hurt remembered most of what Talvas had taught him. In return, Talvas learned about the history of Skyrim and her people, as well as Vilco’s very strong opinions on ancient Nordic poets _who just couldn’t get to the point_. And sometimes, they just talked. It was nice.

Tonight however, Talvas didn’t end up doing very much. Master Neloth had tossed him a huge bag full of soul gems in the morning and had him run around the island attempting to fill them. When one of the grand soul gems ended up with only a common soul in it, Master Neloth had promptly tested a new spell on him. It _did_ end up making him feel stronger – until he stepped out in the rain and immediately started feeling like he had just been trampled by a herd of angry guar. After some convincing, Master Neloth agreed to remove the spell, but he insisted on testing different frost spells in the laboratory immediately afterwards. Up in the tower, it was so could that Talvas could see his own breath, and he was pretty sure that even the walls had frosted over. He had hurriedly grabbed some of his work and gone to Vilco’s room – more as an excuse to not be in the lab for a while than with the intend of getting any work done.

“You should sleep.”

Vilco’s voice snapped Talvas out of his trance and forced him to look up from the empty piece of paper he had been staring at for a solid ten minutes. Vilco had his head propped up in his hand, regarding him with amusement clearly showing on his face.

“It’s fine.” Talvas insisted. “I don’t think Master Neloth would like me sleeping on the job.”

“Master Neloth also wouldn’t like you falling asleep on your notes and drooling on them.”

Talvas’s resulting laugh involuntarily turned into a yawn.

“I don’t think I would get much sleep while he is still busy casting his frost spells.” He shivered even thinking about going back up. “I think I’ll just sit it out down here. He can’t do them all night.”

He _could_ do them all night since he didn’t sleep. But Talvas was still hopeful that Master Neloth would end up getting bored by his frost spells eventually.

“You can sleep in my bed.”

For a few seconds, all Talvas could do was stare at Vilco, trying to determine if his friend was joking or not. But Vilco made no move to indicate so, instead he started cleaning up their notes before standing up and walking over to a chest in the corner of the room.

“I can’t kick you out of your own bed.” Talvas eventually protested.

“It’s not kicking me out if I’m offering.”

“I can sleep on the floor.”

Vilco shot Talvas an unconvinced stare over his shoulder.

“You sleep on the floor every night.” He pulled out a dusty old coat from the very bottom of the chest and spread it out on the floor next to the bed like a blanket. Then, he placed some folded clothes at the top of it – a makeshift pillow.

“See? Perfectly fine for one night.”

“This looks worse than my bedroll upstairs.” Talvas commented through a stifled yawn.

“Ha! So you admit your ’bed’ upstairs is bad!”

Talvas shrugged. “It’s just for sleeping.”

“It’s horrible for your back!” Vilco had wandered over, gently grabbing hold of Talvas’s elbow and coaxing him to stand up. Too tired to argue, Talvas let himself be led over to the bed and sat down on it. It wasn’t the most luxurious bed, but the thin straw mattress was much nicer than the laboratory floor he was used to. The pillow looked fluffy and inviting...

Instead of giving in to the urge to just lie down, he leaned over to inspect the makeshift bed that Vilco said he was going to sleep on. The coat looked ancient, riddled with holes and crusty with ash. Talvas was quite sure he saw a moth flutter out of it when Vilco pulled it out of the chest. He had never even seen Varona use it – this must have been from her predecessor. There was no way Vilco could sleep on it without getting a nasty rash the next day.

Talvas looked at the bed. Then at Vilco. Then at the horrible excuse of a bed Vilco was planning to sleep on. Back at the bed.

“It’s not like we couldn’t both fit…”

He bit his tongue to stop speaking and heat started flooding his face. Gods, how tired was he to just let that slip out? He looked to Vilco – but instead of offence or disgust at the implied bed-sharing he only saw surprise on his friend’s face.

“I mean, yes. We probably could. But uh, I thought it would be weird of me to suggest it.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable –“

“You wouldn’t!” Vilco interrupted him. Talvas blinked twice because he could have sworn a blush to match his own was spreading on Vilco’s cheeks. It was probably just a trick of the light.

“It’s fine. We’re friends, right?”

Instead of an answer, another yawn managed to escape Talvas. Vilco chuckled.

“I’ll extinguish the lights and then we go to sleep?”

Talvas thought about it one more time – how awkward could sharing a bed really be? That’s a thing that friends did, right? And besides, down here it was warm and cozy, and he really didn’t look forward to his bedroll in the lab that was probably half-frozen by one of Master Neloth’s spells.

He looked at Vilco and nodded while stifling another yawn.

“Right. Make yourself comfortable while I sort everything out.”

Talvas shucked off his boots and the outer layer of his robes that usually took the brunt of missed spells and spilled potions. He didn’t want to contaminate Vilco’s bed. Leaning on the bed’s headboard and his knees drawn to his chest, he then watched Vilco patter around the room, extinguishing the quite ridiculous number of candles and lanterns until only the firepit in the middle of the room was left burning low. Talvas averted his eyes when Vilco shed his outer layers, even though nothing too revealing would happen. He just didn’t want Vilco to think that he had any ulterior motives.

Eventually, Vilco climbed into the bed on the other side. They both slid underneath the thin blanket. It took some shuffling around, elbows and knees poking into arms and legs before they settled laying on their sides, each facing a different side of the room. Vilco was a warm presence at his back. It was quiet. The room smelled of ash and dried herbs. The awkwardness Talvas had expected from this impromptu sleepover did not come. One more long yawn forced its way out of his body before he finally let his eyes fall shut.

He barely noticed Vilco whishing him a good night and shuffling closer so that their backs were pressed together, before he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy winter holidays! My present to you is some Vilco backstory, some exposition, and some very shy attempts at cuddling (Talvas falls asleep immediately while Vilco has a minor crisis).
> 
> I didn’t originally mean for this to be such a slow burn – but the boys both don’t really know what they’re doing.
> 
> Anyway, I hope the last few days in this rollercoaster of a year are kind to you! Stay safe and healthy!


	6. Iron shield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talvas gets help when an experiment goes wrong.

Talvas was woken from the best night’s sleep he had in nearly a decade by the piercing ringing of the Dwemer timepiece that had been waking Tel Mithryn’s stewards for the last two centuries. It took him a moment to remember where he was – but he was soon reminded by Vilco yawning so hard that Talvas feared for a moment that his friend’s soul might leave his body, before peeling himself out of the sheets. Vilco grumbled something about bringing Master Neloth his breakfast and dragged himself out of the room, leaving Talvas alone with his thoughts.

Now, with his mind no longer fogged over by exhaustion, the very thought of them sharing a bed send his heart racing. What had he been thinking when he made that suggestion? Did this mean anything? Vilco seemed unbothered by it. In fact, it didn’t have to mean anything if Talvas kept his calm. He threw on his robes and his boots and boots and slipped out of the room before Vilco came back.

Two weeks passed since then, and aside from a curious glance Vilco threw at him on that same day, neither of them mentioned that night again. That didn’t mean that Talvas had stopped thinking about it. He realized more and more how much of a presence in his life Vilco was becoming. There was the gentle teasing, the lingering glances and touches. He wasn’t sure he was just imagining them or not. From new books that were stuffed under his bedroll so he could get his hands on them before Master Neloth did, to silly little doddles that Vilco left in the corners of his notes when Talvas wasn’t looking - he found traces of him everywhere. He was becoming a comforting presence Talvas was starting to rely on more and more. And he wasn’t quite sure whether or not the thought of that was terrifying or not.

It didn’t help that Vilco’s presence was also distracting him from his duties as an apprentice.

“Something weird is going on!” Vilco proclaimed from his perch on one of the mushroom roots. “Just look at the dirt under my fingernails. It wasn’t there last night. And I think I’m getting blisters on my hands. Where did those come from?”

“Could just be from working.” Talvas barely looked up from his spell book. He didn’t have long before Master Neloth would notice it was missing. What was that about another border? Or was it aetheric order?

“Please, you know my work ethic.” Vilco scoffed. “As if I would work so hard that I get literal blisters on my hands for _Neloth_. You know, after he yelled at all of us for letting his tower wither even though none of us had any idea what in Oblivion he was going on about.”

Talvas winced at the mention of the withered tower. Master Neloth had been in a particularly foul mood since part of his tower had inexplicably withered overnight. Talvas had taken the brunt of his frustrations, before the Telvanni Master stalked around their settlement, accusing every single one of its inhabitants of neglecting their duties and sabotage.

“Maybe that’s why he’s up to something.” Vilco jumped down from his perch. “Maybe he has been casting spells on us. Have you noticed him doing anything weird lately?”

Talvas looked up from his spell book and jumped a little when Vilco was standing right in front of him, eyebrows drawn together, and lips pursed.

“I didn’t notice him doing anything weirder than usual.”

Vilco’s frown deepened.

“I can try to keep an eye on him if you want?” Talvas offered.

“Hm.”

He was clearly not satisfied with that answer, but instead of giving him a real answer, Vilco snuck behind Talvas and peeked into the spell book. He was close enough for Talvas to feel his warmth at his back.

“What are you doing out here anyway? Shouldn’t you be practicing this spell inside? You know, under Neloth’s professional supervision and whatnot?”

“There is not enough space in the lab. Also, I need the ashy soil. Master Neloth knows what I’m doing.” Talvas paused. “So there’s no need to bother him about it.”

“Ah,” Vilco started, a twinkle in his eyes, “so you’re not supposed to have this.” He gestured at the spell book.

“I’m supposed to copy Master Neloth’s notes.” Talvas said. “He promised to teach me this spell later anyway, and I’m sure he’s very busy. So I thought if I skipped ahead a little –“

Vilco laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell on you.”

He bumped their shoulders together with a wink. Talvas’s ears grew hot.

“Just let me head inside before you conjure a Dremora Lord who wants to cut my head off.”

“You’re not in any danger.” Talvas assured him when he was already halfway back to the steward’s quarters.

Vilco looked back over his shoulder.

“I feel like I’m always in danger on this damned island.”

Talvas watched and waited until Vilco had closed the door behind him before he turned back to the spell book. What he was going to do would be perfectly safe, but there was no use in scaring his friend off by conjuring an ash guardian right in front of him.

He worked his way through Master Neloth’s scratchy notes. From what he could tell, the spell was much like conjuring an atronach. But additionally to binding the conjured entity to himself, he would also have to bind it to the ash and gravel spewed from the red mountain. This would tie the creature to both Oblivion and Mundus, making it much stronger. And he’d have to keep it under control with the help of… tart bones. Tart bones? That didn’t even make sense. He’d just ignore that part.

He stashed the spell book in his satchel and wandered far enough from the tower to cast the spell without drawing immediate attention. He said the incantantion. He felt the rift to Oblivion open. He reached through with his magicka and pulled. And something came with it, weaving itself to the ash and rocks right in front of him. And there it was, surrounded by a whirlwind of ash and a purple glow.

He did it! He conjured an ash guardian!

His triumph lasted exactly three seconds until the ash guardian shot a gust of hot ash right to his face.

Talvas stumbled backwards and threw up a ward. How had he lost control of the creature so quickly? He reached for the connection that would usually bind it to him – but it was gone. Panic grabbed hold of his chest as the ash guardian kept pushing him backwards. He had to do something, anything – he shot a blizzard at the creature with his left hand. It staggered and stopped attacking long enough for him to run and hide behind a mushroom root.

His hands were shaking as he dug out the spell book from his bag. There had to be some information in it on how to regain control of the ash guardian – but it was no use. Master Neloth’s scrib-scratch handwriting was already hard enough to decipher when Talvas wasn’t being assaulted by an ash spitting monster. He shoved the book in the bag and risked a peek.

He felt his heartbeat in is throat as he was the ash guardian make its way toward Tel Mithryn.

This was even worse! What if it started attacking one of the houses? Or worse, what if Master Neloth found out?!

Talvas gathered his magicka in his hands and shot out a banishing spell, slicing right through the creature. Nothing happened. All it did was draw the creature’s attention back to him. His heart was racing as he ran. He conjured the first thing that came to mind: a flame atronach. It bought him some time to put more distance between him and the attacking creature – but he felt his connection to it snap almost immediately as the ash guardian took it out.

Another spray of scorching ash came Talvas’s way. He barely managed to throw up a ward while at the same time shooting a fireblast at a large mushroom next to the ash guardian. Almost agonizingly slow, the mushroom toppled over, burying the creature underneath it. Talvas let his ward drop, already feeling his magicka dwindle.

And then he watched in horror as the ash and rocks that the ash guardian was made up of were putting themselves back together.

He had to run. He couldn’t fight this thing anymore! He turned and stumbled through the ash, taking cover behind a large rock a good distance away from the tower. The air was burning in his lungs. The creature must have lost sight of him, but he could still hear it rampaging too close for comfort.

Talvas squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to regain some sense of calm. He couldn’t think – his mind was clouded by fear and thoughts of what would happen if Master Neloth found out. He tried to take a few deep breaths.

When he opened his eyes again, there was a stranger walking towards him.

They looked tall and imposing from where Talvas was crouching, clad in armor made of steel and furs, a sharp axe strapped to their hips. The bottom half of their face was covered with a washed-out yellow piece of cloth and they had a massive pack at their back.

An adventurer.

Trying very hard not to rouse the ash guardian’s attention, Talvas did his best to signal to them that heading towards Tel Mithryn right now was probably a very bad idea. It seemed he was successful, since they crouched down and made their way over to Talvas’s hiding spot in an awkward crab-walk.

“Something wrong?” The stranger – a woman judging by the voice – asked.

“You shouldn’t go this way.” Talvas nodded to the tower, panic still slipping into his voice. “There’s and ash guardian blocking the way, and its attacking everything in sight!”

“How did it get there?”

“It’s my fault. I conjured it.” Even now, Talvas still felt embarrassment prickling the back of his neck. “I’ve already tried to get rid of it, but I think I need more time to read the spell book. I need to get rid of it before Master Neloth finds out!”

The stranger glanced over Talvas’s rock. She squinted at the ash guardian in the distance.

“I can take care of it.”

“Are you sure?”

She was already dropping her massive pack in the ash next to Talvas and taking off the dented iron shield that was attached to it.

“It’s pretty tough. My banishing spell didn’t work on it.” He added, although he suspected that her approach to fight the creature wouldn’t be magic based.

“I don’t need magic to fight it.” She snorted, confirming Talvas’s suspicions. She pulled the shiny axe from her belt and gave it a few twirls before standing up to full height.

“Watch my things.”

She charged the ash guardian with a blood curdling war cry without even waiting for an answer.

Talvas was stuck behind his rock, paralyzed by fear as he watched the ash guardian whip around and go straight for the stranger. It shot out a hot gush of ash – she barely managed to raise her shield in time. She kept advancing, pushing the creature further and further towards the tower, Talvas noted with a churning in his gut.

Finally, the ash guardian seemed to run out of whatever fuel it used to attack. The stranger got a few good swings with her axe in – but they went right through the creature’s body of floating rocks and ash without leaving much damage.

She raised her shield again and barreled right through the ash guardian with a frustrated cry.

Ash and debris exploded into every direction, only the largest pieces that made up the ash guardian were left behind. It tried to knit itself back together – but some of the pieces were too far away to still be bound to its magic.

The stranger looked at her shield, and then at the ash guardian. She threw her axe to the ground and held onto her shield with both hands.

Newly invigorated, she started swinging it at the creature like an over-large frying pan. Bit by bit, the ash and debris were scattered far away, each hit accompanied by a loud clang. Talvas eyed the tower nervously, hoping that the noise would not attract any unwanted attention.

The stranger had the upper hand now. All that remained of the ash guardian was the biggest rocks that made up its center. With a final grand swing, she managed to tear those apart as well. And just like that, it was over. Blessed silence fell over them.

The stranger let out a triumphant laugh before she wandered to the spot where she had abandoned her axe. Talvas grabbed her pack and struggled to carry it. He had almost reached her, when a by now familiar spectral fox came bounding up to her to investigate.

Vilco called him back in a much harsher tone than Talvas had ever heard from him.

The stranger’s head snapped up to find Vilco, who was standing in the middle of the path to the tower, arms crossed.

“What in Oblivion are you doing here?”

“What am _I_ doing here?” The stranger grabbed her axe from the ash and walked right up to Vilco. “What are _you_ doing here?!”

And then Talvas saw it – the same round face, the same elegant curve of their lips, the same eyes – although hers were a steely grey that were now staring back at Vilco’s warm browns.

This was Vilco’s sister Ylva.

The Dragonborn.

“I… live here.” Vilco said with a vague hand gesture at the tower before he crossed his arms again.

“You couldn’t even wait a week for me to return to Windhelm?!” She glared at him. “Typical.”

“I couldn’t stay there!” He said with a pinched expression. He looked around, taking a deep breath as id to calm himself. His eyes met Talvas’s.

And then he said the next thing in Nordic.

Which was fine, of course. But it also made Talvas very aware of the fact that he was awkwardly standing around while his friend and his friend’s Dragonborn sister had a conversation he was probably not supposed to hear. He briefly contemplated sneaking away – but that would be even more awkward, wouldn’t it? Plus, he was still holding onto Ylva’s pack that he had carried over, and dropping into the ash would just be plain rude.

And from what it looked like it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have someone intervene if the siblings started going at each other’s throats. Ylva’s face had turned red, and she was holding on to her axe with an iron grip. Vilco grew more and more agitated, spitting out his answers and wildly gesticulating. Even Vilco’s familiar had elected to move away from them and to hide behind Talvas instead.

Ylva must have decided the conversation was over, since she stalked over to Talvas and snatched her things from his hands without so much as a thank you. She pushed past Vilco, straight on to the the main tower.

“At least _try_ not to offend him!” Vilco huffed, throwing out his hands.

Ylva disappeared into the tower and slammed the door shut. Both Vilco and Talvas winced.

“Are you two alright?” Talvas asked eventually.

Vilco let out a long sigh. “Who knows.” His familiar had wandered back to him, and Vilco crouched down to give it a few affectionate pats on the head. “Just and old argument we didn’t get to finish. But you don’t need to burden yourself with our family drama.”

He stood back up and walked to Talvas, his gaze sweeping the area around them.

“What happened to that mushroom? And what was all that noise earlier?”

“Oh uhm,” the prickling feeling of embarrassment was back at Talvas’s neck, “your sister kind of helped me out with an experiment gone wrong.”

The faintest hints of a smile ghosted along Vilco’s lips. Talvas counted that as a win.

“What did she want in the tower? Shouldn’t someone be there to… negotiate between her and Master Neloth?”

“Oh, definitely.” Vilco scowled. “But it’s not going to be me. And I won’t let it be you.”

“You think she’s here to ask him about dragons?”

“Maybe. It’s always weird Dragonborn stuff with her lately. But I doubt Neloth has the patience to deal with her, especially when she’s still… like _that_.”

“You think he’ll want to experiment on her?” It was a very real possibility. Talvas himself had wondered what kind of powers could be learned from a Dragonborn since Vilco told him what he knew. Not that he would carry out any of the cruel experiments Master Neloth could come up with, of course.

“I don’t think she’ll let him. And if he tries, she’ll just –“

A deafening noise shook the tower and the ground around it, so much that it even made Talvas and Vilco stumble. Was that one of the shouts Vilco had told him about?

“– make a huge mess.” Vilco finished, a frown painting deep lines on his face.

They both turned to the tower, just in time to see the door being thrown open and Ylva stomping outside.

“What an asshole!” She said to no one in particular.

“Did you _have_ to shout inside?” Vilco asked, but Talvas noted it was lacking the heated tone their fight carried earlier. It sounded more annoyed than anything else.

Ylva shrugged.

Vilco sighed.

“How big of a mess did you make?”

“Enough for the wrinkly old wizard to kick me out of his tower. Guess I’ll just leave.”

“It’s getting late.” Vilco said. “Are you going to travel the island in the dark?”

“I’ll survive.”

She shouldered her pack, pulling the straps tight and marching right past the two men. Next to Talvas, Vilco went tense. He watched his sister walk away with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Wait.”

Talvas did not expect Ylva to stop. But she did.

“You should rest for a night.” Vilco said, his tone soft. “I have a room. Neloth usually doesn’t go there, so he won’t kick you out. You could have a wash because let’s face it, you _stink_.”

Ylva swiveled around at that remark, a glaring at her brother. Vilco quirked one eyebrow at her. And then, her shoulders slumped just the tiniest bit under the weight of her pack and she looked down at the ground.

“A wash would be nice.” She admitted quietly.

Vilco rolled his eyes as he dug out his key and handed it to his sister.

“Go ahead.” He gestured to the steward’s quarters. “I’m going to help Talvas clean up your mess.”

Ylva shot another scowl his way, eyes glued to his back as he walked towards the tower. Eventually, her eyes landed on Talvas. She stared at him for a few seconds, and just when Talvas thought that he might shrink under her gaze, she turned on her heel and walking to the steward’s quarters.

Vilco clapped Talvas on the shoulder, and pulled him with him, up the ramp to the tower. Talvas let himself be lead. They both paused when Vilco laid his hand on the doorhandle. It was probably the last quiet moment they could get to brace themselves for whatever mess expected them inside.

It couldn’t be too bad, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Points to ash guardian fight* is this an action scene?


	7. Sun Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talvas just wants to know what’s going on.

A large piece of Dwemer metal almost fell on them the moment they opened the door. It wasn’t the only thing that had tumbled to the bottom of the levitation platform; stray alchemy ingredients and soul gems were scattered everywhere. Talvas and Vilco gathered as much as they could carry in their arms before floating upwards.

“Did that insolent girl leave? Or do I have to remove her from my property myself?” Master Neloth sneered.

“She left.” Vilco lied.

“Always the same with those wannabe heroes and their annoying questions! Why do they always have to come to _me_ , ask for _my_ expertise, and when I make the _perfectly reasonable_ request to let me test one simple spell on them, they decide to throw a tantrum.” Master Neloth picked up one of the many stray notebooks next to a fallen bookshelf, spilling half the pages in the process. After a very long sigh, he snapped his attention back to Talvas and Vilco.

“Well, don’t just stand around and gawk! Clean it up!”

Talvas sprang into action immediately, slightly terrified of the Telvanni Master’s bad mood and started picking up the scattered notes. Vilco didn’t start before he shot a scowl Master Neloth’s way. Even then he took his time sorting through a pile of alchemy ingredients that had fallen out of a shelf. Master Neloth watched them like a hawk, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

“No, you imbecile! Can’t you do anything right?!”

Talvas looked up, expecting for the reprimand to be directed at him. But no, Master Neloth was walking over to Vilco and shaking his head.

“You _cannot_ put the fermented toes next to the Spriggan wood. The vapors would – Oh it doesn’t matter. This information would be wasted on your simple mind anyways.”

Vilco stared back at Master Neloth, dropped the giant’s toe he was holding to the floor, stood up and crossed his arms. The old mer sighed and rubbed his temples.

“Of course, of all the people on this island the stupidest one had to become my steward. Go on then. You’ll be more useful making me some tea. Azura knows I need it. Let’s hope Talvas knows his alchemy better than you do.”

Vilco turned on his heel and left without another word, leaving Talvas staring at the spot where he had just been standing.

“What are you gawking at?”

His attention turned back to Master Neloth, who was frowning at him.

“I could have used his help.” Talvas muttered. “It’s a lot to clean up.”

“It’s your own fault for bringing me back an incompetent steward! Now get back to work, I have this spell I need to test, and I’d rather have you cleaning this up without being under its effects.”

Talvas ducked his head and went back to separating the filled soul gems from the empty ones.

He spent the entire evening picking up all the bits and pieces that had been scattered around the tower. Master Neloth disappeared to fiddle with his staff enchanter after Talvas handed him some filled soul gems. Vilco made a brief appearance in the tower to deliver a tray with tea, spilling half of it when he slammed it down on a table. Master Neloth didn’t even drink the tea. He noticed it an hour later and then complained that it was cold.

Eventually, Talvas worked his way to the room with the staff enchanter. It wasn’t as messy here as it was in the rest of the tower. Master Neloth had cleaned up the area around the staff enchanter before he started working. But still, Ylva’s Shout shook the tower hard enough for some books and heart stones to fall out of the shelf. Dutifully, Talvas kneeled to pick them back up and put them into their rightful places.

But one of the books made him halt.

It appeared to be bound in black leather, a design made up of writhing tentacles embossed on the front. They looked like they were moving, beckoning Talvas to take a look inside the book. But at the same time, the book wasn’t really _there_. Looking at it felt like one of his conjuration spells, like a rift that opened straight into the realms of Oblivion. He was itching to pick it up and peek inside – but simultaneously the thought of that made his stomach turn.

He didn’t get the chance to decide if he should reach for it or not because Master Neloth stepped in his way.

“Do not even think about it.” Master Neloth towered over him, his narrowed eyes making the blood freeze in Talvas’s veins.

“Why?”

“Why?!” Master Neloth picked up the book. “A lowly apprentice couldn’t even begin to handle the secrets that this Black Book could uncover! You’d likely go mad, and you have no idea how hard it is to get a passable apprentice these days.”

“A Black Book?” The scolding look that this question earned him made Talvas think that he probably should have known what made this book so special.

“Don’t you know your Daedric artifacts?! You’re even more incompetent than I realized.” Master Neloth made his way over to a chest in the corner of the room, put the book inside, and locked it. “This book offers a glimpse straight into Apocrypha, the realm of Hermaeus Mora. A great wizard like me can find tons of knowledge there – if he knows where to look. But simpler minds can’t take it. They get lost and wander the realms of Oblivion forever, cursed to seek knowledge and never find it. A young apprentice like you wouldn’t even last a second. So. Don’t even think about it. And get back to cleaning.”

“Yes, Master Neloth.”

A Deadric artifact, right here in the tower? Talvas wasn’t even shocked. Most of things here were dangerous. He could only make wild guesses what Master Neloth was doing with it. And yet, there was something about it just being right here the whole time kept eating away at his thoughts, like insects devouring a leaf. But the book was locked away. And now that he knew Talvas knew what it was, Master Neloth would keep an eye on it. Also, Talvas wasn’t exactly looking to go insane. He tried to distract himself by cleaning up the rest of the tower.

\--

“Didn’t I already toss you out earlier today?”

Master Neloth’s sharp tone jerked Talvas awake from his stolen nap. He slipped out of his bedroll and to the railing. From where he was standing, he could see Ylva facing Master Neloth, right by the platform, axe in hand. Master Neloth didn’t brandish any magic, but Talvas could tell from his posture that it he was ready to strike if he deemed it necessary.

“If you came here to make another mess, I advise you to leave.”

“Tell me why Vilco got up in the middle of the night to stack some bricks around a pillar and I won’t have to mess up your stuff.”

Talvas’s mouth went dry. Vilco did what?

“Ah, so it got to that simpleton’s mind at last.” Master Neloth took a step towards Ylva to examine her. She didn’t move away, but her white knuckled grip on her axe gave away that she was far less calm than she appeared. “What about you? Did you walk up to that pillar to examine it? And you didn’t fall under its influence?”

“What’s it to you if it didn’t influence me?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s fascinating, isn’t it?” Master Neloth walked across the room to make a quick note in one of his journals. “My servants have been falling under this thing’s influence one by one. It’s terribly annoying, but I’m very interested to se what happens when they finish.”

“The have ben doing what?” Talvas immediately regretted drawing Master Neloth’s attention. But a terrible tight feeling was constricting his chest, and he needed to know what was going on. Was this connected to Vilco’s concerns that he had mentioned earlier? Talvas shouldn’t have brushed him off.

“They have been building their little pillar for months now. Happens every night.” Master Neloth narrowed his eyes at Talvas. “Surprisingly, you haven’t fallen under its influence yet. Clearly the effect of a mind strengthened by my excellent tutelage. And of course, the protection that the tower provides. You’re lucky that you don’t wander the island at night – I’m sure you wouldn’t last too long trying to resist it.”

A chill ran down Talvas’s spine. This had been happening for months, and he hadn’t even noticed?

“Can’t you make them stop?” Ylva prompted.

“Make them stop? Oh no, certainly not. At least not yet. Not until I've figured out what is going on. Imagine the power of being able to command entire villages to do your bidding. Imagine what I could do with that power.”

Talvas shuddered. He really didn’t want to see what Master Neloth would do with a power like that. Would he strip away the autonomy of the people on the island? Perhaps starting with his servants? Find some poor souls to add to his inventory of test subjects? It all sounded fascinating, and powerful, and like a breakthrough for Master Neloth – and terrible for everyone else involved.

“Do you have any idea what could be doing this to them?” Ylva pressed on.

“I have my theories.” Master Neloth sneered. “Some of them involve that temple in the middle of the island you were trying to interrogate me about this afternoon. If you want to make yourself useful, you should start there.” He slammed his notebook shut. “Now, are we done here?”

Ylva turned to leave, much like Vilco had earlier that day. But just before she stepped off the platform, she caught Talvas’s eye, shooting him a look that had him gripping on to the railing just a little bit tighter.

Talvas was left alone, with more questions forming in his head every second. What was taking control of the minds of the people of Solstheim? Should he do something? What if it got to him too? He couldn’t just wait for that to happen. But then again, Master Neloth had said that he would probably just as susceptible to it as the others. What if he lost control over his own mind as soon as he left the tower?

But staying here and waiting things out wouldn’t do him any good either. Before he could make his mind up about it, he grabbed his satchel and what little possessions he had that would be useful for travelling. He had to see what was going on – if not to help, then to find out how he could protect himself from it.

Master Neloth wouldn’t be any help with that. He hadn’t even bothered to inform Talvas what was going on, even though he had known the entire time. Talvas slipped out of the tower without being noticed, and he doubted that Master Neloth would realize that he was gone any time before he was looking for a test subject. And if Talvas lost his wits to the influence of the pillar, that would practically be the same thing, wouldn’t it?

He got a gust of ash in his face when he stepped outside, the wind picking up but not yet a full-fledged ash storm. At the edge of the tower’s grounds, he caught sight of Ylva, back in full armor and shouldering a pack that looked much lighter than what she had hauled around before. Talvas sprinted down the ramp to catch up with her.

“Where are you going?” He tried to catch his breath as he fell into step next to her.

“That old temple the wizard mentioned.” Ylva didn’t slow down, but she threw Talvas a quick glance over her shoulder. “Do you know where it is?”

Talvas didn’t know. Master Neloth’s errands kept Talvas mostly stuck to the southern shores of Solstheim. What he knew about the north was that there were mountains, that it was cold and that supposedly there was a Nord village somewhere.

“You said something about a pillar.” He needed to see it, he wanted to know if he could do anything to loosen the influence it had.

Ylva shot him another look. “I’ll show you.”

She steered off the path and Talvas followed. Soon enough, a large stone pillar rose in front of them. Talvas felt his stomach turn. He had been here – but he had spotted some reavers gathered around it and decided that he’d be better off avoiding them rather than picking a fight. They must have already been controlled by the thing.

The closer they got, the more uneasy he felt. There was something here – an itch at his thoughts, scratching and looking for a gap in his defenses. It made his head hurt, but it wasn’t strong enough to force its way in.

Several people were wandering around, working tirelessly on structures that rose from the ground and wound themselves around the stone pillar in the middle. Their eyes were glossed over and empty – no trace of free will left. Reavers. Unfortunate adventurers. Elynea. Ulves. Vilco.

Talvas tried to swallow down the tight feeling in the back of his throat.

“Can’t we make them snap out of it?”

“Doesn’t work. Watch.” Ylva stretched out her leg right into her brother’s path. He stumbled and turned to her, but there was no recognition in his eyes.

“Wake up you little thief.”

“Here in his shrine…” Vilco delivered the answer in a monotone voice. After another second of staring, he was back to adding stones to the structure that loomed over them.

“Can you do anything?” Ylva asked.

“I don’t know.”

Talvas’s ribs felt too tight for his chest. He thought he had seen his fair share of horrors during his time as Master Neloth’s apprentice, but this was worse than anything he had ever witnessed. At least he had always been in possession of his own mind. But the people here… they worked themselves to exhaustion doing someone else’s bidding. What was he supposed to do? Just sit and wait until his mind was gone as well? Hope for Master Neloth to grow annoyed enough by the lack of servants that he would consider freeing them?

“I thought you were a wizard.” Ylva’s voice snapped him back to himself.

“I’m just an apprentice.”

And he hated that. He hated that Master Neloth didn’t care. He hated that he had to rely on other people to resolve this problem. He hated that he was powerless to do anything.

Ylva turned around to leave.

“Wait.” He couldn’t just stay here, knowing that something was taking the minds of Solstheim’s people. Ylva was Dragonborn, she had to be powerful, right? She could solve this problem – and maybe Talvas could help her.

“Let me come with you.”

Ylva looked unconvinced.

“I travel faster alone.”

“I know the dangers of this island. I could be your guide.” That was only half exaggerated. He could navigate southern Solstheim well, and he had studied enough maps to know the key locations in the north. He wouldn’t be entirely useless.

“I’m not going to wait for you to pack your things.”

“That’s fine.” It wasn’t like there were any more things for him to get back at the tower, at least not anything useful. If he got hungry, he could try to hunt. Or gather some snowberries. He’d make do.

“I don’t need anything else.”

“If you say so.” Again, Ylva turned to leave.

“Wait.” Talvas said again, earning him a glare. He looked at Vilco and the others one more time and felt a stone drop in his stomach.

“We should leave them a note.”

“What for? I’m not even sure they can read it.”

“But what if they wake up? They should know what’s going on.”

“ _He_ wouldn’t leave a note.” Ylva said with a pointed look at Vilco.

“Well, _I_ would.”

With a sigh, Ylva turned her back to him. “Don’t write a novel.”

Talvas almost dropped his notebook when he ripped out a page. What would he even write?

_You were mind controlled tonight._

That got his main point across.

_It was not Neloth._

Vilco was already suspicious of the Telvanni Master, and it wouldn’t really make things better if he started actively antagonizing him.

_I left with Ylva to fix this._

In case Vilco wondered where the two of them had disappeared to.

_Don’t worry._

There were so many reasons to worry – but that was something comforting to say, right? Talvas never had been the best at comforting people, but he felt like he had to leave something – even if it felt like a lie.

He folded up the piece of paper and looked for Vilco. His friend was kneeling in a shallow pool of water, was praying to the pillar. Talvas made his way over to him and his heart constricted when Vilco didn’t even look up. Carefully, he slipped his note in Vilco’s pocket. After one last deep breath to calm his nerves, Talvas turned around and left.

At the edge of the building site Ylva was still waiting for him, impatiently tapping her foot. She whipped around and started leading way as soon as she spotted him. She picked up the pace when Talvas caught up to her and threw him another look.

“Try not to get hurt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a bit of writer’s block, but have [these](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/807961677004800023/809866279963197481/IMG_20210110_141104-01.jpg) [portraits](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/807961677004800023/809866302318837810/IMG_20210110_141320-01.jpg) I made of my children.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you leave kudos and/or a comment it would absolutely make my day!


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